


are you coming to the fourth?

by ShitIdontWantOnMyName (TheInverseUniverse)



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Asphyxiation, Book 2: The Dream Thieves, Gansey whump, Gen, Gun Violence, Joseph Kavinsky is His Own Warning, Kidnapped Gansey, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Set after they dredge that pond, What is Kavinsky kidnapped Gansey instead of Matthew, Whump, i think, listen I wrote this literally two years ago, look there’s a reason I made a pseud for this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 05:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19761280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInverseUniverse/pseuds/ShitIdontWantOnMyName
Summary: Gansey winced and closed his eyes, turning his face away. He didn't want Kavinsky to be there for anything more than a sadistic laugh, and the longer this went on, the less likelythat was.———What if Kavinsky kidnapped Gansey instead?Heed the warnings!





	are you coming to the fourth?

**Author's Note:**

> There’s never enough Gansey whump in this fandom

Gansey watched the battered Ford drive off and felt a wave of exhaustion course through him.

He turned towards the entrance of Monmouth Manufacturing, and the sight of the white Mitsubishi parked out front added stinging grains of frustration to the wave.

Tires screeched into the parking lot, and Gansey turned to see a second white Mitsubishi. It was identical to the first, except for Kavinsky and Prokopenko inside of it.

Kavinsky jumped out and strode towards him, purposeful and uncaring.

Suddenly, Gansey was on the ground. Both sides of his face hurt. The right from hitting the gravel, and the left from the bite of whatever Kavinsky had hit him with.

He touched his left cheek and felt the warm wetness of blood. He turned to look at Kavinsky and said, “What the hell, Kavin-”

Kavinsky pressed the cold barrel of a gun to his forehead, and Gansey’s words abandoned him a small, terrified huff.

Kavinsky grinned and knelt down, straddling him and pressing his arms to his sides. The gun didn't move, just pressed harder into Gansey’s head as he shifted.

He was still wearing his impossibly dark glasses, and all Gansey could see was his own face staring back at him.

“Careful,” Kavinsky warmed in a voice like gasoline. “You wouldn't want to upset me.”

He took the gun off of his forehead, and Gansey finally let himself breathe again. He thought that this was it. Kavinsky had simply come in, high off dreamed up drugs, and frightened him. It was just another one of Kavinsky’s cruel jokes, always aimed at Ronan in someway. 

Instead of getting up, however, Kavinsky sat back, and dropped his weight on Gansey. He was hollowed out and light, but he seemed to be aiming for it to cause pain.

Gansey winced and closed his eyes, turning his face away. He didn't want Kavinsky to be there for anything more than a sadistic laugh, and the longer this went on, the less likely that was.

He heard the rustle of plastic and clenched his eyes shut, trying to disappear into the asphalt. He felt a hand grab his jaw and his eyes flew open.

Kavinsky forced his face back up and squeezed until Gansey’s jaw ached and burned, and he was forced to open his mouth to relieve the pressure.

Kavinsky shoved three fingers in his mouth, and Gansey tasted the bile of pills touch his tongue. He twisted his head back and forth and thrashed, unwilling to swallow anything Kavinsky forced upon him.

He bit down on the fingers and Kavinsky shouted, “Fucker!” Before smashing the butt of the gun into his face again.

Gansey shouted in surprise and pain, and Kavinsky shoved the barrel of the gun in his open mouth. The gun was sideways, letting it go farther into his throat. He gagged and choked, struggling to breathe around the metal intruder. The pills were dissolving on his tongue, adding another reason to want to hurl.

Panic and fear flooded him, making breathing even more difficult. Tears came unbidden to his eyes, and made Kavinsky smile. Gansey wasn't bucking or trying to escape anymore, instead he was pinned in place by the heavy gun.

A tear leaked out of his eye, and Kavinsky said, “The great Dick Gansey. Brought to tears by just a little gun. Pathetic, really.”

Kavinsky leaned forward and softly pressed his lips to the tear, kissing it away.

At this, Gansey let out a single, broken sob. A new kind of fear and revulsion filled him, and it was too much to take.

“Don't worry, I'll take good care of you for Lynch.” Kavinsky said with a vicious smile. He rattled the gun against Gansey’s teeth, tearing open the roof of his mouth.

“Here's what's going to happen,” explained Kavinsky. “I'm going to take out the gun, and you're going to swallow those pills. Otherwise, I'm going to blow your fucking brains out.”

When Gansey didn't dare move, Kavinsky shook the gun painfully again. “Got it?” He demanded.

Gansey was a mass of writhing fear. Kavinsky was crazy. There was no predicting what he would do, but there was no doubting his threat. Gansey moved his head in the slightest nod.

Kavinsky smiled repulsively and slid the gun out, staring at the gossamer thread of spit that trailed after it.

Gansey surged forward, throwing his weight up and doing his best to throw Kavinsky off and at least free his arms. He spat out the disgusting paste that was left of the pills and screamed with the full force of panic, “Help! He-”

Kavinsky’s hand slammed into his mouth, driving his head into the rocks beneath him. “God damn you, Three.” He tangled a hand in Gansey’s hair and yanked his head forward, before slamming it into the cracked asphalt.

Fireworks went off in Gansey’s skull, rocketing around and leaving pain everywhere. He gasped, and Kavinsky took the opportunity to pour the rest of the pills in his mouth.

“Fine,” hissed Kavinsky angrily. He shoved a hand against Gansey's mouth and grabbed his nose with the other. As ansey bucked desperately, he said, “Clearly you're too stupid for threats. So here's this. You don't breathe until you swallow every last one of those.”

Gansey thrashed harder, and tried desperately to pull in air. His chest pulsed with aborted attempts to pull in air, and tears streamed down the sides of his face. Kavinsky was going to strangle him. This seemed so much worse than a bullet to the head. At least with a gun his death was quick, but this was torturous.

Kavinsky dug his nails into Gansey’s face and shouted, “Swallow!”

Gansey forced himself to swallow past the lump in his throat, and he felt the dry pills stick on their way down.

“Finally.” Kavinsky let go of his face and stood up off of him.

Gansey threw himself to the side and gasped for air. He desperately sucked in breath after breath, focused only on breathing. Tears continued streaming down his face and sobs wracked him.

In the back of his mind, his pride riled against his destroyed state, but coming more intimately close to death than ever before superseded foolish notions of pride.

Kavinsky came up behind him, and Gansey cringed, making himself as small as possible. Kavinsky grabbed his now bloody hair again and threw him forward.

He landed on his stomach and Kavinsky shoved a knee into his back as he shouted behind him, “Pro!”

“You are way more fucking trouble than you're worth,” said Kavinsky as another set of steps approached him. “Any other person would have swallowed the goddamn pills, and you'd be just fine. No blood, no tears.”

Clouds started to form in Gansey’s head, and acid pooled in his lungs. He dimly felt his arms being wrenched behind him and something biting into his wrists, but he couldn't gather any resistance.

He saw more than experienced himself being led to the Mitsubishi and shoved into the passenger seat.

“No...” His head lulled against the headrest, and he sucked in air. The oxygen wasn't enough, however. The acid in his lungs painfully burnt out the air before it was any use, and he found himself gasping for breath.

The world was an unfocused blur, but he heard a throaty chuckle and the false shutter of a cell phone camera.

\------

Ronan’s phone buzzed, and he opened it. The message was simple. A photo, and six words.

Gansey, sat in the Mitsubishi, eyes glazed and wide with panic. His mouth open in a desperate gasp. Blood and tears shining on his face.

Are you coming to the fourth?

\------

**Author's Note:**

> Review!


End file.
